


Find a Way to Tame the Night

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Demon!Noctis, Dubious Consent, Horns, Inspired by CrimsonSpell, Kinky demon smut, M/M, Tails, wink wink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 00:18:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17498054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Everyone comes back from war withsomething. Some, trophies; others scars, stories, nightmares.But for Noctis, the king who defied his own fate and survived the coming of Dawn, the "spoils" have begun to take their toll. The last shadows of the Scourge hold him tight in their grip, and only Ignis has learned the secrets to taming that which prowls in the dark....





	Find a Way to Tame the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morrezela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/gifts).



> Happy New Year! This fic is a last-minute pinch hit for Zelamorre, for the Ignoct Exchange. I saw the combination of "Older Noctis" and "Demon AU" in your request, and, well, this is what happened! Sorry this is so late, but thanks for your patience and I hope you like it!
> 
> A/N: This idea was inspired by my favorite Yamane Ayano manga, “Crimson Spell.” In it, a prince is possessed by the demon that inhabits his family’s sword. The mage priest who follows him in his journey discovers the best way to calm the beast is to wear him the fuck out every night ;) The prince, of course, doesn’t remember a thing, and is never the wiser.

 

The conversation is dragging, no mistake about it. Ignis senses it in the air, where there’s a distinct buzz of impatience, an unsettled energy radiating from the dias. More  _ specifically _ from the throne, upon which sits the young King of Lucis in full raiment, his smile as sharp as the sword clasped to his hilt. 

Below, standing before the steps of the throne room, the man drolls on. “...and so, Your Majesty,” he continues. “The merchants of the West District humbly request a cessation of taxes on goods imported from the three regions aforementioned, and a stricter hand in dealing with the corrupt bankers - who, I believe I have made clear here today, are a blight upon the economy of this great city. Furthermore….”

Noctis’ hand twitches where it rests on the arm of the throne. His fingers clench, unclench, clench again, and Ignis notices the way his knuckles go stark white in result.  _ Boredom? Or something else?  _

“King Noctis?” Far below, the merchant peers above the rim of his glasses expectantly. “Can we count on your support in this matter of utmost importance?” 

Again, Ignis looks to his king. There are shadows under his eyes that aren’t normally there, and his lips are pursed together far too tight. Yet nothing is more telling than the thinly veiled strain in his voice when he finally speaks. “Leave your request with my men. I’ll need...some time to consider it. You’ll have your answer within the week.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” the merchant says, with an altogether unconvincing bow and a scalding look at the Glaives who step forward to escort him out. The doors of the throne room are opened, and beyond them the hallways of the Citadel are bathed in the failing light of day. One look, and Ignis can almost hear Noct’s heart sink. 

“The Representative of the East District Merchant Guild now takes his leave,” comes the announcement. “Next on today’s schedule, an audience has been requested by the Representative of the Lucian Bankers Union, in response to--”

“ _ Enough! _ ” Ignis surprises even himself with the bite in his voice. It rings through the throne room, cutting off the page and earning him Noct’s sudden attention. “We’ve heard plenty already. This matter can wait until tomorrow, can it not?”

“S-sir!”

“Igs…?”

“Highness, you mustn't push yourself.” He turns then, using a much softer voice intended only for his king. “May I suggest we retire to your chambers?”

Something in the look he gives, or perhaps in the way he emphasizes ‘ _ we’ - _ as in  _ just the two of them  _ \- that leaves Noctis disinclined to argue. The king’s throat bobs once, his eyes droop as if he can no longer fight his own exhaustion, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I need to lay down.”

Ignis takes care of the formalities quickly, leaving the rest in the page’s hands as he turns to follow Noctis out of the room. Perhaps the bankers will understand, perhaps not. But they are far from the top of his priority list. Only one thing matters: getting Noctis behind closed doors, and fast. 

The soft covers of the bed seem a welcome relief as the king drops himself onto them. He lets out a sigh, long and weary into the pillows. At his side, Ignis stands wearing a patient smile. “...At least let me take your coat, Noct.”

Here, no pretenses are needed. Here, they're ‘Noct’ and ‘Specs,’ best friends, soulmates, and everything in between. Here, the One True King who defeated the darkness - as well as his own fate - is free to let down his guards.  _ All  _ of them. 

A nod indicates that Ignis has permission to undress him, a task to which he takes with pleasure. First his coat, then layer after layer until Noct is bare down to a loose-fitting undershirt and his boxers - both black, of course. Despite the weariness in his eyes, the king turns to shoot Ignis an appraising look. “…What about you?” he asks, and there's nothing subtle behind his words. “You planning to make me work for it? Have mercy, Specs, I’m tired.”

“I shall leave my robes  _ on _ , thank you. I brought you here to rest, and I intend for you to do just that.” Regardless, his smile is warm. Ignis settles himself onto the edge of the mattress, and concedes to at least remove his formal Crownsguard mantel from around his shoulders. “Tell me honestly, Noctis. The darkness - is it getting stronger?”

“No. ...Maybe.” A sigh. “Some days it’s easier to control. Today just...isn’t one of those days.”

There’s more to it than that, Ignis knows, but he purposefully refrains from commenting. Instead falls silent as he helps Noctis to roll onto his back. But the gaze that meets him is much harder to resist, as is the sight of bare skin scarred and weathered by the trials of a king. Ignis brushes his fingertips over the most prominent mark, the one left by the blade of an ancient sword that had once pierced the center of his chest. Nearly fatal - _ he’d lost so much blood, his heartbeat had been so weak when Ignis had found him  _ \- and yet he’d survived. 

At a price.  

Hastily, Ignis dispels the thought, laying his palm fully over Noct’s scar as he smiles down at him. “Your body is still fighting the last remnants of the Scourge. Rest, and allow it time to heal. I’ll stay by your side.”

“Lay with me?”

“Of course.”

As always, Noctis is warm, his hair soft where it’s tucked under Ignis’ chin. Reminiscent of years gone past, he thinks; of tents and the summer breeze with the top down, long road trips and a sense of adventure. Their cares were different then. That was before Noct was king, and before his sacrifice to save their world had left him tainted by the very evil he’d hoped to expel. Back then, they’d overcome so much -  _ survived _ so much - and that’s why Ignis is certain they’ll survive this, too. 

He’s thinking of nothing but Noct’s fingers twined with his when he drifts off to sleep. 

* * *

 

It’s dark, both in the room and outside the window. Nightfall has come early, or perhaps Ignis has simply slept for longer than he intended. Yet even in the shadows, there no question as to what has woken him up. 

The figure is poised above him, hovering cat-like over his lower stomach, lean legs barely dipping into the mattress to either side. Behind, the soft  _ swish, swish _ of a prehensile tail moving almost silently in the dark. And an arm, long, the skin pale and yet webbed with dark black lines, reaches out to him from the shadows. Toward his throat where the nightmarish creature’s fingers are wrapped tight, threatening to squeeze around him at any moment. Even in the dim moonlight, Ignis can see the scowl, the disgust tugging at the corners of its lips; and yet, for some reason, it continues to hesitate.

“...Highness,” he whispers with practiced composure. “Please release me.”

The creature’s eyes, twin points of red light in the dark, narrow in realization as Ignis begins to stir. And when it replies, the voice on its tongue is familiar and alien all at once. “I could kill you,” Noct hisses. “I could kill everyone, you know.” 

In his heart, the words sting like burning ice - but only for a moment. Ignis must remind himself that this isn’t  _ his  _ Noctis, at least not entirely. His body, his face, true, but the energy that pulses through him now is as black as its blood. That the demon that resides within Noct - a final parting gift, as it were, from the twisted gods - is manipulative, deceitful, and aims to trick him with poison spoken from those soft lips. Fortunately, Ignis has already long learned to see past the guise. 

“You’ll do no such thing. I won’t allow it.” 

A sound, halfway between a snarl and a laugh. “You do not command me, human. I possess the power of both the darkness  _ and _ a king.”

“I have power, too.” Slowly, his fingers edge toward the dagger sheathed at his waist. “Now, are you going to release me, or am I going to have to make you?”  __

He doesn’t wait for an answer. Dual flashes of light: the first, Ignis blade as it arcs into the air, catching nothing but emptiness and a few sparks of bright blue. The second, Noctis - or rather, the demon that  _ looks like  _ Noctis - warping suddenly out of range to the opposite side of the bed. 

It reappears in a fit of coughs and sputters. Shakes its head free from the sting of the Crystal’s touch, but already Ignis is moving. He swipes first for one of the horns that curls like smooth onyx up and out from dark locks. There’s a clang of metal, his dagger strikes true - yet while the steel bounces off again harmlessly, the force of the blow is enough to unbalance the demon. It tumbles to the floor just as Ignis chases it down. 

In seconds they’re up again, wrestling and throwing punches, swiping at each other with daggers and vicious nails alike. Around and around the room, the struggle carrying them from the bed to the dresser to the chaise and back again, neither one ever quite landing a blow. Ignis’ muscles ache with exertion and he can feel the sweat on his back. This isn’t their first fight, of course, but never before has the demon given him this much trouble. As he feared, it must truly be gaining strength, no doubt drawing from Noctis’ own power and weakening him in the process. 

Well. Something is certainly going to have to be done about  _ that _ . 

In his next move, Ignis feints a predictable counter to the demon’s swipe; changes course at the last second to attack not his arm - already moving up to block with those sharp claws - but his tail, which twitches furiously at his side. The blade of the dagger nicks black flesh and the demon howls, rears back in surprise to leave Ignis the perfect opening. The howl turns to a yelp of realization as, outwitted and overpowered, it’s tossed face-first back down onto the mattress. 

Ignis’ own weight keeps it pinned in place. “ _ Enough _ ,” he commands to the writhing form beneath him. “I will not harm you if I don’t have to. But I intend to protect Noctis, even if that means expelling you from his body.”

The response is a laugh, low and strained. The demon’s tail is curled in on itself, and its cheeks are red with shame - or something else. “We are, _ haa _ , bound to one another. He is mine.” 

“No. He is  _ mine _ ,” Ignis corrects with a growl. And is it not true? Heart, mind, soul - they’ve promised it all and more to each other countless times. His proof, of course, is evident in the way Noctis’ body is already reacting to the words, the dominating tone in his voice. Possessed or not, his skin remembers, it  _ needs _ , and Ignis wastes no time using that to his advantage. 

He rolls his hips down against familiar mounds and relishes in the way the demon shudders at the contact. 

“You may reside in his body, but I still know it far better than you ever will. Inside  _ and _ out. I will not allow you to hurt him.” Another hiss as Ignis grabs for the base of the demon’s tail. Its thick, smoother and warmer than he expected, and he coils his fingers around it tight for leverage. A few attempts to pull away, several low, impatient whines, until at last the demon begins to relax in his grip.  

“H-human….” Words, it seems, are becoming more difficult to form on those sharp teeth. The demon’s eyes are growing noticeably heavier, darker as the energy racing in its blood is brought under Ignis’ control, and lust spreads in an unlikely blush across otherwise pale cheeks. In a voice that sounds suspiciously like Noct’s, the demon warbles out. “S-stop. Stop your... _ magic! _ ”

“No magic, I assure you. Only years of practice.” As the familiar body beneath him grows hotter, more responsive, Ignis too can feel need beginning to seep rapidly through his bones. In his robes, his cock stirs more with every shiver, every shudder of the demon’s frame, and he thinks perhaps he’s discovered a way to tame it into submission, after all. 

“It may be true that I cannot force apart the ties that bind you to Noct,” Ignis smirks. “But so long as you inhabit his body, you must experience the bond that he and I share, as well, do you not?”

More whining, more half-muffled moans into the pillow. The demon pushes back against Ignis’ weight, ass lifting up greedily toward the warmth of his palm. 

“I can see that you already feel it. Noct always loves this position. How excited he gets when I touch him... _ here _ .” Fingers sliding under the hem of Noctis’ boxers emphasizes his point. First into the front, where heated flesh is hard and throbbing against its confines, and then into the back as well. Ignis pulls the undergarments down to the demon’s knees and drinks in the sight, illuminated so deliciously by the pale moon: perfect globes (of course they’re perfect, it’s Noctis’ ass, after all); thighs trembling, spread in a hesitant but needy display; the demon’s tail, dark where the base is still trapped in Ignis’ grip, the rest curling and uncurling rhythmically in on itself. 

From the pillows, a pair of heavy, ruby eyes turn to watch him, their heat only thinly veiled behind a waterfall of the king’s hair. 

“ _ Mm _ ,” Ignis hums in appreciation. “I daresay I’m going to enjoy this.” 

He could rush things. He could easily defile the demon like this, claim him roughly and leave his power drained with force. But this is still Noct’s body, of course, and he won’t risk hurting his beloved at any cost. So he takes his time instead. Wets his fingers while keeping the demon pinned in place, and carefully working them inside, one by one as he would with his king. Twisting, turning, curling them against slick walls, and drawing out a barrage of moans whenever he strikes that perfect spot inside. 

But neither he nor the demon have the patience for teasing - the fight has left their blood heated, their energy piqued - and before long he can feel slick muscles squeezing desperately around him for more. Ignis withdraws his fingers to the sound of whimpered protests. Delivers a powerful smack to the demon’s ass - an order as much as a warning to stay put - and instead channels his focus to slicking himself in turn.

What had started as moans devolve into low, thrumming growls of pleasure. Ignis guides his cock into that tight body slowly, steadily, inch by unyielding inch. Beneath him, the demon tenses, shudders, tenses again. Lost, it seems, in the sensations rippling through every nerve, and the  _ memories _ Noct’s body holds of this. Of long nights of passion, of pleasure and pain and the weight of Ignis deep inside, hitting all the right spots with practiced precision. Each tempered thrust draws out more whimpers, more unintelligible wails, as the pillows catch the brunt of the demon’s flexing claws. 

“Re…release me,” it manages to gasp between whines. “ _ Please _ .”

If Ignis had, for the briefest of moments, forgotten that the body he's plunging into is not  _ entirely _ Noctis, he's reminded now. His king never begs - he never  _ has to,  _ of course - because his pleasure is always written so plainly on his face. Ignis has never had trouble reading Noct, or knowing exactly how to give him what he wants, and it stands to reason that this demon should be no exception. Their heat, their voice, their pleasure, after all, is the same. 

With a smirk, he tightens his grip on pale hips. “You seek release?” Desperately, the demon nods. “Very well. Turn around.”

Not waiting for trembling limbs to follow his command, Ignis draws back and promptly flips the demon onto its back. Red eyes, hazy now with lust and supplication, watch him carefully. Warily. And for good reason, because rather than loosen his hold, Ignis instead pulls the demon  _ closer _ . Back down onto his cock until their hips are flush and their heartbeats pounding wildly in sync. A very Noct-like groan fills the air, fils his senses, spurs Ignis to resume his merciless pace. Arms and legs fold around him on instinct, and he hardly even notices the nails suddenly clawing for purchase at his back.

The demon comes once, twice, both times untouched the exact way Noctis has been training to do. It’s a beautiful sight, really; pale skin flushing a familiar red, that perfect mouth falling open and voice catching in time with each climax. Despite the smooth, black horns (or, secretly, perhaps because of them) Ignis finds himself unable to look away. Unable to break contact even with the vice-like pressure surrounding him. Noctis, he knows, will always be his favorite scene - possessed by darkness or not. 

By the time Ignis allows himself to orgasm as well, the demon has gone quiet. Exhausted, it seems, for the fierce red light in those eyes is flickering, fading. The demon - or maybe more of Noctis now - smiles sleepily before sinking down into the mattress, and right into Ignis’ arms. 

* * *

 

His alarm’s been going off for a while now. Noctis mutters something - a groggy,  _ Iggy turn it off already -  _ before peeling his eyes open to the bright light of morning. He reaches across the warm body beside him and smacks blindly around the nightstand, until at last his fingers fall on the screen of his phone and glorious silence once again fills the room. 

Noct lays his head back down on the pillow, turning to regard his lover. It’s rare -  _ scratch that _ , he can count on one hand how many times Ignis has slept through an alarm clock in their lives. Yet here he is, eyes closed and breath coming in soft, shallow puffs, looking for all the world like he could spend the rest of the day content in bed. 

Well, not like Noct is going to argue with that. Just in case, though, he reaches up to brush his fingers over Iggy’s cheek, and smiles when green eyes slide open to greet him. 

“Morning, sleepyhead.” 

“...Oh.” For a moment, Ignis seems to study his face - is that a hint of suspicion? - before his examination is prematurely interrupted with a yawn. “Ahh.  _ Mm _ . Morning? Is it that time already?” 

Noct grins. “No rush. Nowhere to be until after lunch. Or, y’know, not at all today. I’m a king, I can do that.” 

“ _ Noct. _ ”

“Kidding. You are...feeling okay, though, right?” Again, Noct’s fingers stroke over noticeably pallid skin, and his dark brows furrow in concern. “You look kinda sick.” 

“I take offense to that.” Ignis’ smile, of course, says otherwise, as does the way he suddenly wraps his arms around Noct’s waist under the sheets to pull him closer. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to a few more hours of rest,  _ here _ , with you.” 

Warmth, already spreading through him like a summer breeze, colors his face pink where it’s buried against Iggy’s neck. “Mm, good idea.” A moment, then, “You know, I actually feel pretty...awake right now.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Like, I feel  _ really _ good.” He tests it out, stretching his legs and back cat-like in Iggy’s arms. His muscles are a little sore - the same feeling he gets the day after a good training session with Gladio, or after a  _ long night _ with Ignis. But compared to the inexplicable exhaustion of the past week, his entire body feels miraculously like a million gil. “Huh, weird. Maybe I just had a bug or something.” 

“Possibly. Certainly seems to be nothing to worry about anymore,” Ignis says, a little too quickly and with the hint of a smile on his lips. “I am glad you’re feeling better, love. Perhaps after a bit more rest, we can put your newfound energy to  _ good use _ , hm?” 

Noctis doesn’t reply with words, because he doesn’t have to. The way he presses his lips to Iggy’s neck, laughing when the stubble of his beard tickles the skin there, is answer enough. They adjust themselves more comfortably, pull the blankets up tight, and within moments Ignis is back to snoring softly in the chilly morning air. 

The king, however, is still unable to sleep, at least not right away. He finds himself instead running his fingers delicately over the bare planes of his lover’s back, and musing over the peculiar scratch marks he can trace there. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Not very active on Tumblr these days, but you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Lhugy2) and [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Lhugbereth) now :)


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